


That Which Dwells in the Shadows Of the Wood.

by Al Dente Taco (Raven_At_The_Writing_Desk)



Series: Food Fantasies and Nightmares [1]
Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 04:12:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15964442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_At_The_Writing_Desk/pseuds/Al%20Dente%20Taco
Summary: Miso Soup is looking forward to a pleasant walk to Parisel with a lovely traveling companion. He should know by now, things are never as simple as they seem.





	That Which Dwells in the Shadows Of the Wood.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment and share! Kudo's = Love!

The woman was beautiful, as most women were to Miso Soup.

“Miss? Are you in need of an escort?” Miso walked up to the lovely woman and offered his opened umbrella. She turned and gave him a sweet smile. She seemed innocent, but Miso could see something sly in her pretty pale eyes. 

“Thank you, Monk.” She smiled as she stepped up beside him. “I’m going to Parisel? Can you travel that far?”

“I just happen to be going there myself. My temple is there.” Miso matched her smile. He gave her an admiring look. No signs of marriage, that was good. She seemed to notice his gaze and tipped her head. She didn’t look like a working woman either, not that Miso minded that. It just meant she needed to be treated with more care.

“What brings you so far out here if your temple is near Parisel?” She asked as they began to walk the long worn trail. Miso made sure to match his pace with her’s so they could both share the shelter of the umbrella from the gray drizzle of the day.

“Just a bit of collecting, to get herbs and supplies.” Miso chatted amicably with her. He’d come to meet his friends as well, who were also out gathering things they needed for the Royal Academy, but she didn’t need to know any of that. It was pointless to burden the common citizen with such issues as Fallen Angels and Food Souls. Especially since he was just looking for someone to enjoy a long walk with. Usually, he traveled with the quiet Sanma and the constantly talking Tempura. But they had needed to split up, each man going his own way. It wasn't dangerous, so they had agreed. Miso would never have thought he'd missed either man, but the constant quiet of the long trip was grating on him. He supposed he should have been meditating or contemplating the Budda or something, but he had such a lovely companion now, it would be rude to ignore her.

The rain let up as they walked, and soon they used the umbrella for shade. She still walked close to him though, still giving him sly sideways glances. They talked as they walked, about the weather, the fall season, and as such things always do, their favorite foods.

“The best is grilled pork belly, crispy and warm still, over fragrant white rice,” Miso said. The woman giggled. Her voice soft and rich. She covered her mouth as she did and Miso admired her pale eyes again. They sparkled in her perfectly porcelain skin, she almost looked like she was wearing a finely crafted mask. She was mature and beautiful, just how he liked women best, well, right now anyway.

She looked over at a gazebo built along the road. A place for travelers to stop and rest. Several statues representing spirits were dotted around it, bringing good luck to those who stopped and prayed. A water basin feed by a spring bubbled beside the gazebo and Miso thought about filling his drinking gord there. 

“Oh monk, I hope you don’t mind, but I need to rest a moment.” She drifted over to the gazebo and Miso followed. He stopped briefly and prayed over a few of the statues, pouring water on their heads as a blessing. She watched him from the gazebo. “You seem very devout.” She commented as he joined her.

Miso tried to look enlightened. “I am but a humble monk,” He said sitting beside her and watching her. She was lovely to look at and he wondered if she might be willing to delay their trip a bit more, here in the shelter. “Praise should mean nothing to me, yet when someone so lovely says such things,” He placed a hand over his heart. “I am moved.”

“You’re such an easily manipulated fool,” The woman said smiling. Miso smiled back and blinked. He wasn’t quite sure he’d heard her right.

“I…what?” Miso pulled back just slightly as the woman stood up, her pale hair fanning out around her. Red strings flowed from her fingers, and the clatter of marionettes surrounded them. Miso turned quickly to see the uncanny faces of the little spirit statues hovering around him. They looked bloodthirsty now and they flew at him as the woman laughed. She leaped away from the fray, light as a feather.

“Silly monk. So easily charmed by a pretty face,” She laughed at him, only now Miso saw what she so cleverly hid from him.

“Orochi!” Miso called the Fallen Angel by name. He was no woman, no matter how pretty Orochi was. Miso swore, and here he’d been having very impure thoughts about the Fallen Angel.

“Ah, now you see.” Orochi mocked him. Miso gestured with his hands, his fingers forming symbols. A clear block formed around Orochi and the Fallen Angel grunted as he struggled, encased in a clear block of energy.

Miso turned to see the little puppet shrine statues fly at him. They struck with the weight of the stone they were made from, and it staggered Miso. He was never one for frontline fighting, and it seemed it was going to cost him this time. He felt Orochi break from his magical bindings and he swore. The Fallen Angel didn't look even a little phased by Miso's magic. 

“Foolish monk. Silly Fool Soul. You were far too easy to kill,” Orochi flexed his fingers and the puppet statues flew down again. Miso braced even has his heart raced. Orochi knew he was a Food Soul? How! He hadn’t given anything away.

“Die you Fallen scum!” Tempura roared. The sound of crunching stone made Miso look up, just as Sanma zoomed past him to slice the on-coming puppets down. Miso thanked The Maker for sending his friends. He stood behind Miso and hovered in the air, surrounding them with a healing light.

He heard Orochi swear very unlady-like. Miso cracked an eye to track the puppet master 0and saw the bastard had gotten away.

“Focus!” Sanma shouted at him as Tempura plowed through another set of statues, rock and rubble falling to the ground as he punched his way through them.

“Brother!” Tempura roared, he looked haggard but eager for the battle. “Good thing we decided to stop here too!” He grinned, and Miso could see the tired lines around his eyes. He sent another wave of healing energy at the buff man, but the fatigued look didn’t lift. Tempura laughed heartily and simply charged another flying stone puppet.

Miso tried to ask Sanma, but the man flashed away like lightning and sliced through the backs of the remaining puppets. Miso relaxed, the healing aura around his friends fading. The two men came over to him and Miso looked them both over carefully.

“What happened to you two?” He asked, seeing Sanma who looked just as worn out looking as Tempura. Sanma smiled in his soft way.

“We ran into a small collection of Fallen Souls on our way back from the Secret Forest. Tempura took the brunt of it though.” Sanma gestured at the usually boisterous man. Tempura swayed on his feet some but managed a blinding smile.

“I expect nothing less from myself,” He said blinking rapidly. He put an arm out to brace himself on Sanma’s shoulder, missed and collapsed forward. Miso rushed and caught the mountain of a man as he fell, taking them both to the ground.

“Tempura!” Miso struggled not to be completely blanketed by the man’s bulk. “Sanma, help!”

The two managed to get Tempura to the gazebo, Miso taking his wrap off to lay on the ground beneath Tempura.

“What in the name of the Being happened? This is more than just battle fatigued!” Miso snapped. Sanma shook his head. He sat on the benches and looked like he would rather be resting too.

“It was a Fallen Angel. I’ve never seen it’s kind before. Large like an Oni but it looked like a human. I don’t understand, but when it hit us, it drained our freshness away.  As I said, Tempura took the brunt of it.” Sanma sighed a small calico cat climbed up the stairs. Sanma smiled at it as it came and rubbed up against him. “Little one, have you delivered my message?”

“What message?” Miso asked, checking his friends for injuries. When he was satisfied that Tempura was solid he moved over to Sanma.

“I sent the little one to get help,” He said his head falling back against the half wall of the gazebo. “I pray they arrive soon.” His words slurred and Miso sighed, helping Sanma lay on the bench. He wasn’t sure what to do exactly, his healing wouldn’t be enough this time. They needed magical fruits, and none of them had any. The Academy kept such things in tight supply, and a creature like this new Fallen Angel had never been encountered.

He’d wait a while, he decided and see if Sanma’s aid arrived, if not, he would have to figure something out. He didn’t like the idea of leaving the two here, unprotected, but honestly, he wasn’t much help even if they were attacked and he was here. He sulked. They should never have split up in the first place.

A slow drizzled began, graying the day and making everything damp. Miso sighed, this hadn’t ended up being the relaxing walk to Parasel he’d been hoping for, not at all.

 

  



End file.
